We're Smiling But We're Close To Tears
by Kiyo Kage
Summary: Takes place after Duets.  Sam sees Kurt's car covered in whipped cream, and can't walk away.


Author's Note: The Trevor Project is an amazing resource, and sometimes all it takes to save a life is to let someone know that there is someone out there to talk to. It only has a small part in this story, but if you or anybody you know needs someone to talk to, here's the number for the hotline: 866-4-U-TREVOR or 866-488-7386.

Disclaimer: Don't own Glee. If I did, Karofsky would be sent off to some island where nobody would hear from him again, Puck would have hooked up with Kurt at least once, and Klaine would already be together, and Kurt and Sam would have an epic bromance filled with pranks on Finn. Until any of those things happen, it's safe to assume I'm not in charge.

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Sam couldn't believe his eyes. He had left school late, having been caught by Rachel and subjected to a diatribe about why she deserves the latest solo, which had been given to Mercedes. And god, he wished he could bring himself to hit a girl. Maybe it would shut her up. But that's besides the point.

In front of him was Kurt's prized Navigator. And the normally spotless vehicle was covered in whipped cream, spelling out words like "faggot", "burn in hell", and the most disturbing "get a clue" with a newspaper report on teen gay suicides taped under it.

"Holy fuck," Sam breathed, shrugging off his hoodie. He started using the fabric to wipe down the car. It just spread the cream, but at least those words had disappeared.

Who would do something like this? Kurt kept to himself outside of glee club, only mouthing off to the jocks when they started in on him. Yes, Kurt was different, but did that make it okay for people to tell him to _kill himself_? Kurt wasn't the first gay boy Sam had met, so the whole "gay thing" wasn't a big deal to him. Kurt was his friend, what did it really matter what was in the pants of whoever the boy liked?

"Oh my god," Sam heard Kurt gasp from behind him.

"I tried to clean it off, but," the blonde gestured helplessly at the mess. When Kurt grabbed the piece of paper on the ground, Sam regretted not shredding the article and throwing it away.

"Well, now this makes sense," Kurt mumbled, voice shaking. Reaching into his book bag, he pulled out a length of rope. "It was in my locker." Sam stepped forward, grabbing both the article and the rope from Kurt's hands and throwing them in the trash.

"Let's go to your place and clean this off," Sam whispered, staring at Kurt. "Give me your keys."

"No, I'll drive," Kurt unlocked his prized possession and climbed inside, Sam following. After the windshield wipers cleared their sight, Kurt began the silent drive.

As Kurt pulled into the Hummel garage, Sam still had no idea what to say to the smaller boy. Then again, Kurt was a guy. Talking wasn't going to solve the problem, and they both knew it. Right now, the best thing to do was clean off the Navigator and wash Sam's shirt.

"Wait, we're gonna wash it in here?" Sam asked, incredulous. "Won't we flood the garage?"

"There's a drain," Kurt mumbled, pointing. "I'm going to change into my cover-alls. Do you want a set?"

"Uh, sure," Sam followed Kurt into the back, catching the outfit that was thrown at him. Kurt changed first and Sam, while waiting for the smaller boy to emerge from the bathroom, looked around the office. When he turned back to face Kurt, who had just opened the door, he couldn't help it-he stared.

"I don't think I've ever seen you in anything like that," he offered as a lame explanation. It was true. Every time Sam saw Kurt, he was wearing at least a few hundred dollars worth of designer clothes.

"Go change and I'll get everything ready," Kurt kept his head down as he left the office, obviously still upset over what had happened.

By the time Sam made it back to the car, Kurt already had two hoses out. They began pressure-washing the car in silence, each working on opposite sides. Once his side was clean, Sam turned down the pressure to non-painful levels, snuck to the other side, and-

"SAMUEL EVANS!" Kurt screeched when he found himself drenched.

"Yes?" Sam tried his best to look innocent, and dodged around the car when Kurt turned his own hose on the bleach blond.

"You ruined my hair!" was Kurt's battle cry when he doused Sam. Within two seconds, the two teenage boys were trying their best to drown each other, laughing.

"Truce?" Sam gasped when Kurt finally let up.

"Sure," Kurt stepped forward, sticking his hand out. When Sam grasped it, Kurt pointed the hose and managed to get Sam right on the forehead.

"What the hell?" Sam yelled, blasting Kurt.

When Burt entered the garage, Sam had Kurt cornered.

"Get the hell away from my son!" Burt hollered, charging forward. Seconds before Sam was met with an early death, Kurt started yelling again.

"We were just playing Dad! DON'T KILL SAM!" The second sentence was screamed at such a high pitch it stopped "Papa Bear" Burt in his tracks.

"Sir, I wasn't going to hurt him," Sam rushed through his words.

"Then why was my son cornered in our garage?" Burt snarled at the blonde.

"Water fight?" Sam offered pathetically, causing Kurt to giggle.

"Dad, we were messing around. This is Sam, he's in glee and he came over to hang out," Kurt explained, still laughing.

"Your car?"

"It got dirty and I wanted to wash it. Now, we're going to change and hang out in my room," Kurt grabbed Sam's arm and dragged him back to the office, where their clothes were laying. After they had changed, Kurt led Sam down to his room.

"Dude, your room is totally awesome," Sam complimented, looking around.

"Of course, I refuse to live in a barn," Kurt countered, grinning. The two of them sat down, Sam on the circle chair and Kurt on the bed. After a few minutes of silence, Kurt spoke up in a small voice.

"Why did you help me?" Kurt asked, staring at Sam.

"Because I didn't want you to have to deal with that shit. I'd be just as bad as them if I just ignored it," Sam responded.

"But why? I mean, Finn's practically my step-brother, and he didn't do anything," Kurt mumbled. "In fact, he probably thinks I brought it on myself."

"For what? Being gay? Dude, that's no reason for them to do this to you. It seems like they're a little to interested in what you like to do in bed," Sam stated, moving to sit on the bed.

"Last year, I spent a week dressed up as Lady Gaga. I've worn skirts to school. I don't try too hard to fit in."

"So? If they can't deal, it's their problem. So you like to dress differently, who cares? Tina likes to wear black, Mercedes told me you called her a technicolored zebra, and Finn and I wear whatever we happen to grab," Sam gestured to his jeans and t-shirt.

"But they make it my problem, Sam. Look at today! They want me to kill myself!" Kurt was starting to cry, and Sam wrapped his arm around the smaller boy. "And there are some days when it almost sounds like the right thing to do," Kurt admitted.

"Kurt, that's never the right thing to do. Unless you're like...Hitler or something. You're so much stronger than they are, and if you do that, they win," Sam tightened his grip. "Do you have anyone to talk to? You know, someone who's been through it?"

"I've been calling the Trevor Project," at Sam's blank stare, he explained. "It's a suicide hotline for gay teens, and they help. And they're able to talk me out of doing something stupid, especially when Karofsky puts these notes in my locker."

"What notes?"

"Articles like the one you saw today, with him telling me to follow their lead," Kurt was crying again, leaning on Sam.

"What the hell?" Sam almost yelled, causing Kurt to flinch. "Why don't you tell anyone?"

"Nobody cares when I get thrown in the dumpster, or thrown into lockers. Why should they care about this?"

"Because they should care when you get hurt, and those letters are fucked up! Listen, next time something happens, tell me. I'll MAKE them listen. And I'll try to get the jocks to lay off," Sam ordered.

"Why do you care so much? And why are you so comfortable around me? Most guys are scared they're going to catch the gay."

"I went to an all boys boarding school. Before that, I lived in a fairly big city. You're not the first gay guy I've met. And at my old school, my best friend was gay. He's still my best friend. He helped me not fail every class that required reading. He had a few boyfriends when I lived there, but it wasn't much different than everyone else. Except, you know, the singing, since he's in that schools glee club. It was actually kinda like watching Rachel sing to Finn at one point. Anyways, not the point. I don't care about the sex part, which is what the real difference is between gay and straight, because aside from porn, I don't like to think about anyone having sex unless I'm involved," Sam explained, realizing how long he had spent talking.

"You're kinda amazing," Kurt mumbled, smiling.

"You're really amazing," Sam responded. "I mean, Blaine went through the same stuff, and he's one of the strongest people I know. People like you and him, you're gonna make it big because you know what it's like to only be able to rely on yourself."

"You're gonna make it, too," Kurt pointed out. "There aren't that many genuinely nice guys around. You'll get a football scholarship and we'll be watching you make it big in the NFL." Sam laughed, trying to picture Kurt watching football.

"You'd get bored after five minutes," Sam joked.

"I was a kicker AND a cheerio. I guarantee I'll be able to watch," Kurt countered. He elbowed Sam before getting up and walking to his dresser. Grabbing a bottle of prescription pills, he handed them over to Sam, not being able to meet his eyes.

"They're oxycodone. I had surgery a few years ago, and I never took all of my prescription. I can't have them here anymore. Last week, I was going to OD."

"You want me to get rid of them?" Kurt nodded. "Okay, I'll flush them when I get home."

The night progressed smoothly from there. When the Hudsons came over, they barricaded themselves in Kurt's room to avoid Finn, who Sam was quickly loosing the ability to pretend to like. What kind of asshole didn't look out for their brother? However, they spent the hours playing Mortal Kombat, which Kurt had stashed in his room.

When Sam left, Kurt was happier. They had been laughing, all previous thoughts of cars and bullying gone. As Sam started the walk home, he pulled out his phone and dialed a familiar number.

"Hey, it's me," Sam grinned when his friend answered.

"Hey Sam, what's up?"

"I have a favor that I really really want you to do."

"Do I need to be worried."

"No, just...Blaine, I think it'll help if you talk to one of my friends here."

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